


Everything He Never Was

by permanentchaos



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic, All for the Game Trilogy
Genre: Character Study, Mentions of canon character death, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 18:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12260118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/permanentchaos/pseuds/permanentchaos
Summary: In truth, Nathaniel doesn’t know where he starts or stops, doesn’t know where Alex, Stefan, or Chris end but he knows this, he likes Neil Josten, but Neil Josten may be his biggest mistake yet.





	Everything He Never Was

It’s like this, Nathaniel has been on the run since he was 11, he doesn’t have friends, doesn’t have hobbies or a favourite song, a favourite time of day or season, doesn’t even have a favourite food. These are all dreams, wishes, things that he keeps closed off and out of reach when he has a moment to think about who he really is. In truth, Nathaniel doesn’t know where he starts or stops, doesn’t know where Alex, Stefan, or Chris end but he knows this, he likes Neil. He _loves_ being Neil Josten in fact. **  
**

Neil gets to play exy, Neil gets to wake up each morning in a house, granted it’s not his own which is probably a good thing, but he wakes up each morning alive and relatively safe. There is never certainty, Nathaniel knows that certainty is something that will only get him killed, but there is a soft ease in which he allows himself to fall into. Neil wakes up, grabs a granola bar and eats his breakfast hidden in the shadows, he clambers out of the back window and hops the fence unseen, and makes his way over to school for an education that he knows his ultimately pointless. He blends in and Nathaniel disappears from existence because this is Neil’s life and Nathaniel has no part in it. He ignores his peers, barely registers his teachers and runs through the routine of the day as though it is the last place he would rather be, that is until the bell for last period rings and he takes himself off to the locker room. Exy is what gives Neil a reason to live, what makes him human, and Neil Josten will grasp onto that last straw for dear life.

He knows that there is no end game here, he’s been in town too long that he’s recognized by several people as he changes out. They know his name, his number, the smell of the cheap body spray he uses, but that’s okay, because in this world Neil can have small attachments. These attachments are fickle, they ultimately mean nothing and until they do Neil will cycle each day treating them as such.

Somewhere deep down Nathaniel is laughing at him.  _Stupid boy_.

Millport itself is a long way down the bottom of the list of smart ideas, but here when Neil Josten is on the field he doesn’t have to care. There’s an exy stick in his hand and a heavy thump in his chest where his heart beats through exertion and not because he’s running through woodland or city streets or empty warehouses trying his best to stay alive. He  _is_  alive, moreso now on a field playing exy than he has even been throughout the past 8 years of his life.

Neil knows however, when this hour finishes and he heads back into that locker room to shower and change, that Nathaniel will head to skitter below his subconscious again, because while he loves being Neil Josten, Nathaniel Wesninski is the person who is going to keep him breathing another day. Nathaniel Wesninski, son of the Butcher of Baltimore, knows the realities of what lies beyond the pitch and the school doors, beyond the realm of which Neil Josten exists.

He takes his time showering, listens to the echoes from the rest of his team fade out and away before he allows himself a breath. He’s not sure of tonight’s plans. He’s spent a week at the house already, and the technicality of his routine means he shouldn’t sleep there again tonight. Nathaniel knows that repetition is dangerous, if there’s anyone on his trail they’ll pick up on it, but the thought of sleeping in the locker room just doesn’t sit right in his stomach. Not when he knows there are reasonably comfortable blankets back at the house, not when he knows the locker room offers no such comforts.

_You’re getting soft._

He is, or stupid. Reckless. Complacent. There are plenty of words to describe his ill fitting desire to sleep on something other than a metal bench, but there it is. This is the thing see, Nathaniel Wesninski has been on the run for 8 years and he’s _tired._  He’s lost everything he never had, which he supposes isn’t actually a bad thing, but the memory of his mother clouds across the memories of his childhood like the smoke that fluttered into the air when he burned her body. There’s a twist in his gut and he can almost smell her, not the cheap gas station perfume she used to drown herself in but the charred and crackling burning of her body. A shiver runs up his spine and he wants to retch, because it’s only been a year, but _fuck it’s been a year_ since he had to cremate his own flesh and blood, the only person Nathaniel Wesninski had ever cared for. He didn’t even like her half the time. Mary Hatford was as bold as she was harsh, years of turmoil had twisted and leached whatever spark had once burned through her veins and she was cold. Unfeeling. She wanted Nathaniel to be the same. She wanted him to, but he knew he disappointed her at every turn. They loved each other, fiercely, but love didn’t count for much when it was all you had.

Neil shook his head, desperate to rid himself of the memories of Nathaniel’s mother because Neil’s parents weren’t Nathaniels. Neil’s parents were out of town, business, he would say, other commitments. Neil’s parents were as absent as is fictioned childhood, but no one need know that.

“Neil?” Coach Hernandez corners him in the locker room and he rolls his eyes and huffs a breath, because Neil doesn’t want to talk, Coach knows that. Neil thinks Hernandez must hope that if he asks too many questions Neil will get tired of lying and tell him the truth, if only he knew.

“Your parents going to be here tomorrow?” It’s always the same, question after question after question-

_No, one is dead and the other wants me dead. I don’t think it’s in the schedule._   

He wonders what would happened if he just told Hernandez the truth, if the man would laugh, if he would look at Neil in horror as he sheds that skin and Nathaniel comes out to play. He wonders and wonders and wonders and- no. Telling the truth is a death sentence, wrapping himself in his own web of lies keeps him breathing another day.

“I’ll ask. I don’t think so, but I’ll ask.” He knows it’s enough to satisfy the older man, just for the moment. So he takes a step back, creating more distance between the two and slings his duffle over his shoulder. Neil doesn’t look back as he walks out the locker room, fully intending to walk three times around the block until he’s sure the Coach has left before he breaks back in for the night.

Neil disappears as Nathaniel takes step after step. He’s been here too long, maybe it’s time to let go of Neil like he’s done with the others. To put Neil in the box with Alex and Stefan and Chris and start from scratch somewhere. Maybe. Maybe he’ll give himself one more day, allow himself one more match before Nathaniel gives up Neil completely.

24 hours. He’ll give himself 24 hours before he lets Neil go. There’s some contacts up north he can go to get new id’s. It’s the smart thing to do. It’s the right thing to do.

~

_Nearly 24 hours later and Andrew Minyard hits him with a exy racquet and Kevin Day steps out of the shadows like the ghost of christmas fucking past and Nathaniel regrets every decision he’s ever made to cling on to Neil._


End file.
